


We Don't Have Much Room To Live

by starrywrite



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst with a Happy Ending, Band Fic, Breaking Up & Making Up, Codependency, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrywrite/pseuds/starrywrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And I had these dreams that I would learn to play guitar, maybe cross the country, become a rockstar. And there was hope in me that I could take you there, but dammit you’re so young - well, I don’t think I care” - Something Corporate, Konstantine. </p><p>(Band!AU. Phil and his band are about to embark on their first tour, and his boyfriend - and biggest fan - Dan is coming along for the ride. What could possibly go wrong?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Don't Have Much Room To Live

**Author's Note:**

> MY FIC FOR THE PHANDOM BIG BANG 2015!! YAY!! this has been in the works literally since november of lAST YEAR and IT’S FINALLY FINISHED AND BEING POSTED shout out 2 the PBB for helping me get my ass in gear B) and shout out to my amazing PBB team for all of your help, especially my wonderful and amazing beta! i coudn’t have done it without u <3
> 
> songfic based off of/inspired by the song Konstantine by Something Corporate. also loosely inspired by the film ‘If I Stay’ 
> 
> check out the WONDERFUL fic art by Hannah!!! http://ofhannah.tumblr.com/post/131535025014/click-on-el-pic-this-is-my-artwork-for-fic-nr
> 
>  **disclaimer:** none of the song lyrics used in this fic were actually written by phil (well, technically me) and i am in no way claiming credit for them!!

  
_I can't imagine all the people that you know_  
_And the places that you go_  
_When the lights are turned down low_  
_And I don't understand_  
_All the things you've seen_  
_But I'm slipping in between_  
_You and your big dreams_  
_It's always you and my big dreams_  


“This is rubbish!” Chris exclaims, throwing his drumstick down against the hi-hat of his drumkit and allowing it to skyrocket off of it, flying towards the carpet. Dan, Phil, and PJ wince at the sound - and make sure to avoid being hit by the drumstick - and Chris’ rant continues. “And we’re rubbish! No one is going to take us seriously with a name like ‘The Untitled Project’!” 

“You need to stop doing that,” Phil says idly, in reaction to Chris’ mini tantrum. “We can’t afford a new drumkit if you fuck up that one.”

“Who cares about my drumkit?” Chris asks, dramatically and clearly exasperated - not that anyone can blame him; it’s been a long, unproductive and unsuccessful afternoon, and they’re all feeling a bit cranky by now. “It’s not like we’re going to be playing any gigs with a god awful name like ours!”

“The name isn’t _terrible_ ; it’s kind of ambiguous,” Dan offers, trying to help out his friends as best he can. Truth be told, he didn’t really feel like he belonged here, infiltrating their band meeting since he wasn’t a member of the band. But they were desperate and needed all of the help they could get, that much he knew. 

“It’s not even a real name!” Chris groans, frustrated. “We need a _proper_ name! A _good_ name!”

“Right,” PJ nods in agreement, unlocking his phone and opening up his notes app. “So far our ‘We Need A Proper Fucking Name For This Band’ list consists of: The Orange Excuse -” 

Chris whispers “What the fuck” to himself, but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

“- Phil and the Strikers,” PJ continues, wincing as he reads that one.

Dan turns to his boyfriend. “Seriously?” he asks and Phil just shrugs sheepishly. 

“Meme Renaissance,” PJ reads slowly, raising his eyebrow in confusion. Everyone in the room turns to look at Dan, whose face flushes pink.

“Moving on. So there’s the Meme Renaissance… Two Pints of Milk - what the? Oh, sorry, I need to do some shopping later,” PJ says. “Uh, yeah, that’s all we’ve come up with.”

“The Orange Excuse isn’t _awful_ ,” Dan says, breaking the silence that follows after PJ reads the poor excuse of band name options they’ve come up with in the past hour and a half. 

Chris groans again. “We might as well pack our microphones now,” he sighs heavily and as melodramatically as he can manage. PJ and Phil roll their eyes, but there’s a part of them that can’t help but to agree; they need a name - a _good_ name - if they ever want to be taken seriously as band. Unfortunately for them, all of the good band names are taken by Patrick Stump and Brendon Urie and the like. Because sure, a name like Panic! At The Disco is pretty odd to say the least but it’s still a damn good name. 

Phil and his band, on the other hand, do not have a good name. Or _a name_ to put it simply - The Untitled Project was supposed to be a place holder until they found something better, and even though they tried to convince themselves that it was just as cool and edgy as a name like Simple Plan, they knew it was completely rubbish. 

PJ sighs, “Right well, seeing as we’ve accomplished absolutely nothing all afternoon, am I free to leave?” he asks. “I have Bonfire Night commitments.”

“It’s Bonfire Night already?” Phil asks, taking his guitar off of his shoulder. “Huh, no wonder I’ve been smelling petrol all day.”

“I love Bonfire Night,” Chris says. He inhales deeply and sighs contently for the first time all day. “ _Ahhh_ , the sweet smell of fire and petrol.”

Dan laughs a little, getting up as he takes Phil’s guitar from him and places it in its case. “Why don’t you guys call your band fire and petrol?” he suggests jokingly. “You can tell your fans you’re all Bonfire Night enthusiasts.” 

The other three fall silent and Dan glances up at them, confused when he sees the expressions on their faces. “What?” he asks.

“You know,” PJ speaks up. “That could actually kind of work? Short, sweet, easy to remember. Kind of hardcore and edgy, but not too weird.”

“It’s better than anything we could’ve come up with,” Chris adds. 

“Uh, you guys know I was kidding, right?” Dan asks. 

“Fire and petrol,” Phil says, a smile tugging at his lips. “It definitely sounds cool.”

Dan blinks. “Wait, what?”

“We could actually trick people into thinking we’re cool with that name,” Chris says, ignoring Dan’s confusion. His eyes sparkling with excitement and a genuine smile stretches across his face - across all of their faces, and Dan can’t help but to feel like he’s done something right. 

Phil reaches out for him and pulls Dan into a tight hug, rocking him back and forth a little and says, “You literally just saved our band’s arse!” Dan’s face flushes deep red and Phil kisses his blushing cheeks, and exclaims, “We have a name now!” 

“I could kiss you,” Chris says, and Phil’s grip on him tightens just slightly enough to make Dan giggle. 

“So, Fire and Petrol - shall we vote on it?” PJ asks, although a vote isn’t even needed because all three of them say “aye” almost immediately and on that fateful day, Fire and Petrol was born. 

* * *

**one year later.**

The most unfortunate thing in life had to be that your dream and passion didn’t always pay the bills, which is why Phil has to spend most of his time working at Asda. Sure he wouldn’t mind living as a starving artist, but he lives with his brother and his brother’s girlfriend and he’d be absolutely gutted if he didn’t at least try to pay them rent for allowing him to live with them. It was either that, or go back home and live with his parents, who would definitely make him go to uni and get a degree that’ll result in him having some mundane job for the rest of his life, and he has an entire list of things he’d rather do than any of that. Besides, Asda wasn’t a terrible job and it was only until the band started doing well enough that he could support himself on his music alone. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself as he tries to make it through these shifts.

After a long morning complete with antagonising customers and stocking shelves, Phil’s break finally rolls around, and those forty-five minutes of freedom are arguably the best thing to ever happen to him for one reason: a flyer. 

_BATTLE OF THE BANDS_

Phil’s eyes widen; he was sure that a Battle of the Bands was only something that happened in the movies. 

_UNSIGNED ARTISTS, THIS IS YOUR CHANCE! WINNER RECORDS THEIR DEBUT EP WITH ABBEY ROAD RECORDS. DOES YOUR BAND HAVE WHAT IT TAKES?_

“Yes,” he says aloud, breathless and excited. “Yes - we have what it takes!” It takes him a moment to realize he’s talking to himself and he shuts his mouth, biting his lip and damn near shaking with excitement. His break is coming to a close with only a few minutes to spare, and he doesn’t have enough time to call Dan, Chris, or PJ with the news so he takes his phone out of his pocket to take a picture of the flyer, making sure to get the date, time, admission fee, and venue of the event. His hands are damn near shaking and he’s sure half the pictures are blurry (he makes sure to write down the information in his notes app just in case) but he just can’t calm down, not a bit.

If all goes right, this is going to be the start of everything Phil’s ever dreamed of. 

* * *

He spends the rest of his shift thinking about the Battle of the Bands, and by the time he’s finally free to leave, he’s far too wound up with nerves and excitement all over again. He can hardly get his hands to stop shaking enough to send a group text to PJ, Chris, and Dan, firing off the words _emergency band meeting_ and telling them to get their arsees in his garage _now_ (he includes about fifteen exclamation points for emphasis and hopes that Chris doesn’t reply with anything smart arse-y because he can’t humor him, not today). He doesn’t have the patience to wait for a cab so he legs it back home, and the good news is he makes it home in record time, quicker than he ever has before. But the bad news is he hasn’t properly ran since P.E. lessons back when he was in school, so he kind of feels like dying as he struggles to catch his breath outside of the garage. 

“You aren’t on the run from the police, are you?” Martyn asks him when he notices his younger brother hunched over, hand on the side of their house, gasping for air. “Should I call mum?”

Phil shakes his head and it takes him a moment before he can say anything, “I have the _best_ news. Holy shit, Martyn, you won’t believe what happened today.”

“What are you on about, Phil?” his brother asks as Chris, PJ, and Dan all arrive, perfectly timed. 

“Jesus Phil,” Dan’s at his side almost instantly, and Phil is finally able to straighten up. “Why are you so out of breath - did you _run_ all the way home from work?” he asks, making a face of disgust. Phil doesn’t blame him.

“And what’s the deal with this emergency meeting?” Chris asks. He laughs a little and says joking, “Honestly, you sounded like you found a record label to sign us or some shit.”

“I did,” Phil says and everyone’s jaws drop. It’s rather comical to say the least, but he isn’t surprised when the four men standing around him find themselves completely speechless when they realize Phil isn’t joking.

He tells them everything, his hands shaking as he shows them his phone revealing the (several, in all honesty) photos of the flyer, and PJ and Chris start screaming before he’s even finished speaking. They’re hardly coherent, and Dan joins in a moment later when it hits him, and Martyn has to usher all of them inside of the garage before the neighbors being to complain. The smile on Phil’s face is wider than it’s been in ages; this is it, this is _really_ it. This is the big break the band needs, that _he_ needs. If this goes right then everyone is finally going to start taking him seriously and they’ll realize that this isn’t just some dumb hobby that he’s wasting his time with and - 

“Wait,” PJ interrupts his thoughts. “We only have _two weeks_ to prepare for this?” Chris looks over his shoulder, his eyes as if he’s hoping that PJ is kidding but the deadline date does not lie.

“Okay, I know that’s not a lot of time,” Phil starts, his smile already beginning to fade away.

“You mean considering we can only play, like, three songs?” Chris mutters.

“You guys can play more than three songs,” Dan insists. Phil’s lips twitches back up again; leave it to Dan to try and raise their spirits. It’s no wonder he’s their biggest fan.

Chris, on the other hand, isn’t amused and he rolls his eyes. “We’re such a wedding band,” he says. “All we can play is covers!”

“Chris is right,” PJ says, albeit reluctantly because heaven knows Chris’ ego does not need anymore inflaton. “We need original music, and we’ve sort of been lacking in that department.” Phil doesn’t say anything; he knows they’re right. Sure, they’ve tried their hand at songwriting - the three of them have started loads of songs, but most of them have never been finished and the rest have been thrown into the bin. Chris wasn’t kidding - they have about three original songs, and even though they’re proud of them and lyrically they’re not horrific, but they do need work. His heart begins to hammer a little harder in his chest; what if they’re not ready for this? What if they don’t have what it takes? 

“Phil’s written a song!” Dan says suddenly, his eyes wide and full of excitement, and Phil can feel the color draining from his face. 

PJ smiles a little. “You’ve been holding out on us, Lester?” he asks.

“I - it’s nothing good,” he stutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

“He’s lying, it’s beautiful,” Dan insists.

“It’s way too long,” Phil cuts in.

“And the lyrics are so good,” the brunet continues as if Phil hasn’t even spoken. 

“Do we get to see ‘em?” Chris asks and, once again, Phil’s protests are ignored as Dan unlocks his phone and shows Chris, PJ, and Martyn the email he’s been sent of Phil’s song lyrics.

“ _Konstantine_ ,” PJ muses as he speaks. “Catchy, simple, easy to remember. It definitely has SEO.”

“SE - what?” Phil asks, rubbing his temples, feeling the slightest bit stressed and anxious as he stands by idly while his friends read his song. He’s never felt more vulnerable than at this moment. 

“Search engine optimisation,” PJ explains. “It’s something that people will find if they searched for it. The more SEO something has, the easier it is to find it online.” He pauses for a second to read some more of the lyrics and he smiles. “And I bet if all goes well at the Battle of the Bands, everyone will be searching for _Konstantine_.”

“Whoa there, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Phil says, his eyes wide at the thought of performing his song at the Battle of the Bands - he hasn’t even played it for Dan yet. 

“Phil, Dan wasn’t kidding - these lyrics are stunning,” Martyn tells him and Phil’s face feels hot.“Have you gotten any idea on how it should sound?”

“Please say yes,” Chris says. “With lyrics like this, we’ve already won half the battle - and they are really great lyrics. I bet it’s going to sound amazing when we figure out how to play it.”

“I - I don’t know guys,” Phil sputters. “It’s - it’s really personal and we’ve barely even practiced it -”

“But you already have the lyrics finished,” Dan interrupts. “And you told me you know exactly how you want it to sound.” Phil isn’t sure if he considers Dan to be a traitor or a saint. “Sure enough you guys could get this sounding perfect in two weeks,” he continues. Chris and PJ nod eagerly in agreement. 

“Guys,” Phil groans. “I can’t just -”

“Phil,” Dan says, a tone of seriousness and Phil knows right off the bat that he isn’t joking around anymore. “This song is incredible, and I know if you guys really work at it, it’s going to sound like a work of art.” 

“I’ve never heard anything more pretentious, but accurate, in my entire life,” Chris says, and Dan nudges him a little.

“Quiet you, I’m encouraging,” he says and then he turns his attention back to Phil, whose cheeks are now as pink as cotton candy. He smiles a little, a genuine smile that reaches his eyes and makes Phil’s heart flutter. “This song could totally win you guys the competition.”

PJ nods in agreement. “He’s right, Phil, we all love it already. All we need is your word, mate,” he says. “And we’ll get started learning it right away.”

Phil huffs a little, defeated. But he can’t help but to grin, shyly yet excitedly. “So,” he starts. “I think it should start with some piano.” He has to wait until Chris, Dan, and PJ all stop cheering before he can continue. 

* * * 

For two weeks, the band rehearses _Konstantine_ until they’re able to play it forwards, backwards, and in their sleep. Every time they play it, the way Phil feels is so beyond words; _Konstantine_ is such a personal song, one he had never really intended on the band playing, and hearing it - actually hearing it - being brought to life is so _indescribable_. So he’s settling with _weird_ until he manages to expand his vocabulary.

The time flies by, however, and in the blink of an eye it’s the night before the big day, and Phil is absolutely frantic. He can’t remember a time where he was so anxious and nervous and practically hysterical - he wasn’t even this bad when he had exams back in school. 

“This is a bad idea,” he says as he paces throughout his living room. Dan is seated on his couch, watching his boyfriend have something similar to a mental breakdown. “A horrible idea, a terrible idea, a god awful idea -”

“So I take it you’re excited about the Battle of the Bands,” Dan interrupts and Phil groans loudly. “C’mere, sit next to me.” Dan tells him, patting the couch cushion next to him. 

Surprisingly enough, Phil complies and he plops down on the couch next to Dan. “I can’t believe I thought this was a good idea,” he begins to ramble again. “We - we aren’t ready for this, we’ve only _just_ learned the song - god, why did we choose _that_ song? It’s terrible! It’s sappy and nine fucking minutes long; no one is going to sit through a nine minute long set, no one is going to sign a band who performed a _nine minute long_ song! We’re hardly prepared, and this is going to be an absolute trainwreck, and - “

“Hey,” Dan cuts in softly and Phil shuts up, looking over at him as he says, “Stop. Breathe.” He reaches for Phil’s hands and smiles as he tells him, “You are going to be amazing. And this opportunity only comes once in a lifetime. So don’t fuck it up,” he adds jokingly.

Phil rolls his eyes but he kisses Dan’s temple and murmurs, “Thank you,” against his skin. 

Dan hums happily, tilting his head back to kiss Phil properly on the lips and he mumbles, “Tomorrow is going to be the best day of your life,” into his mouth.

“God, I hope so,” Phil sighs, kissing Dan lazily yet sweetly. 

Dan’s hands make their way to Phil’s biceps and he squeezes them both reassuringly. “I know so,” he tells him and they stop kissing long enough for the two of them to press their foreheads together. “I know so,” he repeats. 

“I’m scared,” Phil admits, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Don’t be,” Dan says immediately. “I told you, tomorrow is going to be amazing. _You_ are going to be amazing.”

Phil smiles at him. “I love you,” he whispers because that’s all he can think to say now. 

“I love you too,” Dan replies as soon as the words leave Phil’s mouth, and he gives him another kiss before gently pushing Phil back down on couch so the two of them can lay down together. “You need to get some rest,” Dan tells him. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

Phil doesn’t protest for once and he lies down, pulling Dan down with him and the two lay together on his couch. With their limbs entangled and Dan’s head on Phil’s chest, the brunet closes his eyes, the thumping of his boyfriend’s heart luling him off to sleep with a soft smile on his face. No one outside of Manchester has even heard of his band, but he was going places, Dan knew that for sure. And tomorrow is going to change everything. 

* * *

Today’s the day. On the way to the Battle of the Bands, they have to turn around halfway because Chris forgot his keyboard, and when they get there, after signing in, PJ throws up in a bucket backstage, and Phil has to wear gloves to try and salvage what’s left of his nails. To say they’re a bit of a mess today would be an understatement. 

They sign in, everything a strange and frantic blur, and then they find themselves backstage. Phil is certain that everyone can tell that they’re clearly new at this, with how obvious they’re freaking out, but even that can’t get him to calm down. 

Martyn and Dan try to soothe all of their nerves, but soon find it futile because nothing they say is going to calm any of them down. PJ and Chris sneak through the curtain separating them from the stage to their holding space and they report back with news of how the other acts are doing. They mostly say that each band was “really good” and Phil isn’t sure if everyone was genuinely really good or if the two of them are just nervous and overcompensating. Either way, it doesn’t make Phil feel any less stressed about the entire situation. 

Part of him still feels as though this is all just a dream, like this isn’t really happening. He can’t wrap his mind around the fact that the three of them are about to perform for someone from Abbey Road Records, that the three of them could potentially get signed today and professionally record their first EP. 

After about half an hour of anxiously waiting, a man appears backstage and says, “Fire and Petrol,” five heads snap up at the same time. “You’re on deck.”

“We’re next,” PJ gasps, and Chris utters every swear word he can think of under his breath (Satan Lucifer himself would be offended in all honesty). 

“Hey, you,” Dan places his hands on Phil’s shoulder and forces him to look at him.

“We’re next,” is all Phil says.

“You are,” Dan agrees. “And you are going to be so, so amazing, I promise you.” 

“What if we -”

“No, don’t go there,” Dan says, quickly interrupting Phil. “Don’t play the ‘what if’ game, don’t worry about anything. All you have to do is get out there and give it your all. Okay?” 

Phil says, “okay,” breathlessly, nodding his head, and Dan gives him a kiss, mumbling, “I’m so proud of you,” against his lips and then adds, “Go fuck shit up,” and Phil manages a small smile before heading out on stage with Chris and PJ. 

The stage is brighter than he imagined it to be, shining lights glaring into his eyes, making the audience hard to see. Everyone looks like blobs of light and he supposes that’s for the better; he doesn’t want to spend the whole performance making awkward eye contact with the Abbey Road Records label representative or some poor victim in the crowd. He takes a deep breath and slowly walks up to the mic, praying to every single God he can think of that he doesn’t trip and fall on his face or knock anything over. 

(Thankfully, he manages to avoid all of that by the time he manages to carry himself up to the front of the stage.)

“Um, hello,” Phil says into the microphone, his accent particularly more Northern than it usually is. He feels shaky on the inside, but rigid on the outside and he hopes that he manages to loosen up enough to actually play his guitar. “I’m Phil, this is Chris and PJ, and we are Fire and Petrol.” No one really responds when he says that; he can hear Dan and Martyn cheer backstage and a few people in the audience offer up some sympathy claps for the nervous Northern boy on stage before them. “This is a song I wrote called _Konstantine_ ,” he says a moment later. “I hope you like it.”

He looks over at PJ, whose holding onto his barse tighter than Phil’s ever seen him grip it, and he nods at him. Phil licks his lips anxiously and gives him a slight nod in return. Then he glances over to Chris and nods in his direction, and Chris doesn’t hesitate to bring his hands up to the keyboard and start playing. When he hears the opening tune start, Phil closes his eyes and loses himself in the song, in the lyrics, in the music. It almost feels as though it’s an out of body experience; he’s never felt this way at a gig before. And he knows in the back of his mind that it has nothing to do with the possibility of winning such an amazing prize, but the fact that this is his dream. This is what he wants to do for the rest of his life - play songs that he wrote with his two best friends. He wants people to hear his music, to hear his voice. He wants people to see how talented Chris and PJ are. He wants the world to know their names.

And this is as close as they’ve ever gotten to that dream coming true. And god, win or lose, it’s the most amazing experience he’s ever had. .

Time goes by faster than he anticipates and it feels as though as soon as they’ve started, the song is coming to a close. The music slows down and Phil sings the final line, _my konstantine_ , and everything stops. The normal silence that usually follows them when they’ve finished singing is replaced by the sound of screams, cheers, claps, whistles, hollers - you name it. Phil almost can’t believe it, it feels like something out of one of his dreams. 

He glances over at PJ and Chris, and both of them have the widest smiles on their faces, looks of disbelief in their eyes. Phil awkwardly mumbles, “Thank you,” into the mic. He feels lightheaded as they exit the stage, the cheers of the crowd sounding muffled to his ears, as though he’s got earmuffs on. He’s dizzy in the best way possible and he worries that his knees are going to give out as he walks in a daze backstage, and Dan throws himself at him, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tightly. “You did amazing!” he squeals excitedly, and Phil is thankful that he’s holding him so tight because he feels like he could float away or melt into the ground. 

“You guys were incredible!” Martyn tells them but Phil can barely hear him over the buzz of _holy crap, holy crap, holy crap_ in his mind. 

“Did that just happen?” he chokes out, his voice barely above a whisper. And Dan laughs a little, giving him another tight squeeze and he whispers, “Yeah, it did.”

* * *

The rest of the night goes by slowly, the boys no longer anxious, but antsy, backstage as they wait for the entire competition to end before all of the bands are brought back out onstage. The MC makes a comment about how amazing everyone was tonight and the crowd cheers again, and Phil wants to press the fast forward button on the remote of life because he can’t take the anticipation any longer. 

“And,” he finally says and Phil wants to faint. “It is with great pleasure that I announce, the winning band of the Battle of the Bands and recording their debut EP with Abbey Road Records -”

 _It’s not us,_ Phil thinks to himself. _It can’t be us; the song was too long, the lyrics were too sappy, everyone probably got bored listening to us -_

“Fire and Petrol!” 

“What?” Phil actually utters aloud almost as soon as the words leave the MC’s lips. It takes him a moment to grasp what actually happened and he gasps, “What?” again. His heart almost actually stops and he grabs onto Chris’ and PJ’s shoulders to keep himself from falling over, and his two friends grab him and hug him while he stands there, frozen in shock. 

“We’ve done it mate!” Chris screams. “We actually _fucking_ did it!” And Phil wants to cry. He can hear Dan and Martyn screaming for them from backstage and the audience out in front of them cheers loudly for them. His eyes go blurry for a moment and everything around him feels as though it’s moving in slow motion, and he grasps onto PJ’s and Chris’ shirts tightly, holding his two best friend tightly as the three of them bask in the glory of this moment. 

_And this is only the beginning,_ he can’t help but to think to himself, and then he utters it aloud for Chris and PJ to hear and the three of them hug it out in the middle of the stage in front of everyone, holding onto each other, and the beauty of this moment, for just a little while longer. 

* * *

They go to a cafe afterwards, because they’re all too wound up to go home yet, and they don’t even eat anything (well, Chris does, but everyone else just kind of picks at his chips - causing him to slap their wrists - and PJ takes a bite of his burger) but they split a large sundae. They chatter excitedly about how they’re all going to be at Abbey Road Records tomorrow, talking about recording their EP and discussing the possibilities of radio play for one of them songs. They talk about writing new songs and making sure that this EP is going to be some of their best music ever created. By the time they reach the bottom of their dessert bowl, they come to the agreement that their EP should be titled ‘Konstantine’ in honour of Phil’s song that won them this opportunity. Phil’s face is as red as the cherry that once topped their ice cream. 

* * *

Hours later, Dan and Phil lie entangled in each other on the couch in Phil’s living room, giggling softly, faces flushed. They sneak a kiss or two every couple of seconds and Dan can’t go five minutes without whispering to him, “Remember when you won a Battle of the Bands? Did you know that you’re going to record your debut EP with an actual record label, in an actual studio like a _real_ rockstar? Did I happen to mention how _fucking_ proud I am of you?” And Phil feels like he’s going to burst. 

Dan nuzzles Phil’s neck, planting kisses all along his jawline and neck. “I’m so, so proud of you,” he murmurs against his skin. 

Phil hums a little and turns his head to kiss Dan properly on the lips, and he mumbles, “Thank you,” and he rests his forehead against Dan’s. “God, I can’t believe this is really happening,” he murmurs to himself. “What is my life?”

Dan chuckles a little and kisses Phil one more time. “Yeah, well, don’t forget me when you’re a big rockstar, okay?”

“I could never forget you,” Phil tells him, and pulls Dan in close, the brunet resting his head on his boyfriend’s chest and he closes his eyes, sighing happily. They lay like that in silence for a moment, just basking in the glow of tonight’s events and enjoying each other’s company, and Phil speaks up a moment later. “Hey,” he says quietly, breaking the silence. “Thank you.”

Dan tilts his head up to look at him and he knits his eyebrows together. “For what?” he asks.

“For supporting the band since the start, since before we even had a name,” Phil tells him, and then he kisses his forehead and adds, “For being the best boyfriend in the world.”

Dan smiles at him, “I’ve always been your biggest fan ,Phil Lester. Always will be,” he says softly. “I always told you you’d be somebody, someday.” Phil’s smile couldn’t be wider if he tries and he presses his lips to Dan’s, holding his boyfriend as close to him as he can. He closes his eyes and tries to hold onto this moment for as long as he can, never wanting to forget a single moment of it. And this is only the beginning, he thinks to himself. 

* * *

 _Phil can feel himself actually starting to defrost when he leaves the bitter chill of winter behind him and enters the Manchester recreational centre, where he teaches guitar lessons to a group of young kids. The twenty-one year old exhales on his gloveless fingers, hoping that they’ll thaw a bit; it’ll be a bit hard for him to play guitar if he can’t feel his fingers. Or bend them._

_He’s early today, his class doesn’t start for another half hour, so he removes his puffy winter coat and hat, draping them both over his arm, and he slowly makes his way to his room. As he walks down the hall, he parsees an open door where he hears, arguably, the most beautiful piano music and he can’t help but to stop and listen._

_He peeks inside to see a boy, maybe his age but definitely younger, sitting at a piano bench and he can’t take his eyes off of the way his fingers effortlessly fly across the black and white keys. He doesn’t recognise him and Phil can’t help but to feel a bit weird for spying on him, but he can’t help himself. He doesn’t recognise the song he’s playing but it sounds so lovely to his ears and Phil is captivated immediately._

_The performance ends with a final glissando and Phil claps a little, offering him the smallest bit of applause simply because he deserves it. The boy jumps a little in his seat and turns around to look at him with pink cheeks and Phil says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, spy on you or anything. You’re just a really talented pianist and I really liked listening to you play.”_

_“Oh, uh, thank you,” he says, still blushing but he smiles a little. “I’m not that great though; my piano teacher quit on me yesterday.”_

_Phil’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding,” he says and when the boy shakes his head he says, “Why would she do something like that?”_

_“Believe it or not, I’m actually really rubbish at reading sheet music,” he explains. “And I guess it just got to be too annoying to try and teach me.”_

“By the way you play, you don’t even need _to be able to read sheet music though,” Phil tells him and he blushes even more - and it’s the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen._

_He shrugs. “She was kind of a bitch anyway, so in a way it was a win for me,” he says. There’s a short pause before he says, “I’ve heard you play before. You teach lessons down the hall - you’re really good.”_

_“Oh!” Phil says, the slightest bit startled. “Thank you.” There’s another short silence between the two of them, broken by Phil blurting out “I’m in a band, by the way,” because he doesn’t know what else to say but he just wants to keep talking to him._

_The boy raises his eyebrow. “You are?” he asks, and then he smiles a bit. “That’s really cool. What are you called?”_

_Phil bites his lip. “We’re between names,” he says slowly. “Not that it matters, right now, anyway. We’re kind of nobodies.”_

_“I resent that,” the boy says and he stands up from the piano bench and walks over to Phil. “What’s your name?”_

_“Phil Lester,”_

_“Well there you have it,” he says with a smile. “You’re Phil Lester. You’re already somebody.” Phil’s heart feels like someone’s wrapped their hand around it and started squeezing it, and if the smile on his face was any wider his cheeks would pop at the balloon. This piano-playing stranger just made his day, and even though Phil didn’t know it at the time, he was going to end up being a very important person in his life._

* * *

Watching Phil record _Konstantine_ in a real studio fills Dan with so much secondhand pride that he wants to cry. To see the love of your life doing what they love to do and doing it so well is such an incredible feeling and experience.

He and Martyn sit opposite the glass wall separating the two of them from Phil, Chris, and PJ as they record their vocals on the track, and Dan’s eyes are wide with wonder as he watches them. He can’t take his eyes off of them as they record, and he can’t stop thinking about how a song Phil told him he wrote in the middle of the night on a whim is now becoming a professionally recorded single with the potential for radio play. Honestly, what are the fucking odds? 

Dan smiles from ear to ear when they finish recording this take, having to make sure it’s the best they can get. Phil pushes his headphones off and winks at Dan before putting his full attention on their producer, and Dan’s heart flutters in his chest. He always knew Phil was going to be somebody. 

“This is incredible,” Martyn whispers in awe. “I never thought they would’ve made it this far, to be honest.” Dan just nods, even though he doesn’t necessarily agree. He always knew the band was going to make it one day. And he always knew that Phil was going to be somebody.

* * *

“I’m hungry,” Chris moans, smacking the back of Phil’s seat. It’s the end of another long, long week of recording and finalising the EP before it’s ready to go on sale, and everyone has been anxiously waiting to find out if _Konstantine_ is going to get any radio play or not, thus resulting in everyone feeling a little anxious, excited, and exhausted. 

The four boys are sat in Phil’s car in a carpark, trying to figure out where to go for dinner. “I literally don’t even care where we go now, let’s just go _somewhere_.”

“Oi, relax!” Dan says, turning around in the passenger’s seat to face Chris. 

“Feed me!” Chris groans, reaching over to shake his seat now. “We’ve spent all day at the studio - _again_ \- finalising the EP and I’m _starving_! I will literally eat PJ if Phil doesn’t drive this shit mobile to some food.”

“You’re a fucking monster, mate,” PJ says with a laugh, reaching for Chris’ hands to pull them away, pushing him back against the backseats of Phil’s car. 

“And my car is _not_ a shit mobile!” Phil protests, glancing up to look at Chris and PJ through the rearview mirror.

Chris rolls his eyes. “I can literally see the ground through the floor,” he says and Phil makes a sound of protest.

“Mate, your car _is_ pretty shit,” PJ says sheepishly and Phil’s jaw drops in shock. He turns to Dan, who puts his hands up defensively, a silent way of saying ‘leave me out of this’ and Phil huffs.

“Well, you know what?” he says, crossing his arms across his chest. “None of you three have a car, so you need to quit complaining about mine.”

Dan pouts in Phil’s direction, teasingly. “Is someone sensitive about their shit mobile?” he asks, leaning over to press a kiss to Phil’s cheek as his boyfriend rolls his eyes.

“You know what I’m sensitive about?” Chris asks. “Dying from famine!”

“Okay, okay,” PJ sighs. “What are our options for dinner?” Immediately Dan and Chris start speaking over each other about where to go for their next meal, and PJ intervenes every so often to try and keep the peace. Phil sits quietly for the most part, always hesitant to jump into the ruckus and easygoing enough to not really care where the four of them go for dinner. The radio’s volume is low, but something catches his attention and his heart nearly stops.

“Wait,” Phil says, silencing all three of them. His eyes are wide and his mouth agape. “Wait, wait, wait -”

“What is it?” Dan asks, but Phil reaches out for the radio dial and turns the volume up. A familiar tune begins to play, soft and gentle piano music, and everyone’s jaws drop, the four of them sitting in silence and disbelief. It isn’t until they hear Phil’s voice through the speakers that they actually start to react. 

“That’s our song,” PJ gasps, breathless, the same time Chris nearly shouts “That’s _our_ song!” his eyes almost as wide as the smile on his face. Phil doesn’t say anything, he can’t say anything, and it isn't until Dan, Chris, and PJ start screaming in excitement, pushing open the doors of Phil’s car and jumping out to run around the carpark in a celebratory fashion that he actually moves. 

As soon as he’s out of the car, Dan grabs him, hugging him tightly and it takes Phil a moment, but he wraps his arms around Dan’s waist, picking him up and spinning him around. He holds him tightly, burying his face against his neck and all he can whisper is, “Is this really happening?”

Dan’s laugh echoes in his ear. “It’s really happening,” he says, squeezing him back tightly. 

“My song,” Phil whispers. He shakes a little, clinging to Dan tighter than he’s ever held him before. “That’s - that’s my song.” He can’t believe what he’s saying, he can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth right now. It doesn’t feel real, none of this feels real.

“That’s your song!” Dan repeats gleefully, and Phil knows that this is real. The two of them can hear PJ and Chris shrieking about their song being played on the radio, informing anyone within hearing distance, and Dan laughs again, squeezing Phil even tighter. “Fuck, I’m so proud of you,” he tells Phil. Phil is still speechless, his heart racing in his chest, the distant sound of his song - _his song_ \- being played on the radio - _the actual fucking radio_ \- filling his ears. 

* * *

_Dan lies asleep with his head on Phil’s chest and Phil plays with his hair, watching his boyfriend sleep. This couch isn’t big enough for the two of them but they manage to make it work each and every time they take refuge on it, their long and lanky limbs hanging off the edge but they’re both too comfortable to care. They’re together, and that’s all that matters._

_Phil has never felt this way towards anyone before; he’s never loved someone as much as he loves Dan. He’s one of the first things he thinks about when he wakes up in the morning, one of the last things he thinks about before he goes to bed at night, and throughout all hours of the day, Dan makes his way into his mind. It’s more than just love and infatuation - Dan is his best friend. He’s been there for Phil through some of the hardest times in his life, he’s been a part of some of the best moments in his life; he’s just always been there. Dan is like Phil’s moon - something that he can rely on night after night, something that’s always going to be there no matter what. He’s… constant. He’s_ his _constant._

 _Phil nearly jolts off of the couch at such a speed that he nearly knocks Dan to the floor, but he manages to compose himself enough to reach underneath the couch cushions and pull out one of his spare notebooks. And immediately, the words start to flow._

* * *

After their radio debut, Fire and Petrol’s popularity seemed to skyrocket.

 _Konstantine_ had been getting more and more air play, the band itself had gained quite the following - people on social media adored them, and they had even begin playing a few gigs in town. The EP had been finalised and upon being released, it peaked at Top 5 on the charts, something no one had anticipated in the slightest. It was at that point their manager suggested something to them that would change their lives: a UK tour. 

“We’re going on tour!” Phil shouts, barging into Dan’s house and running into the Howell’s lounge to find his boyfriend playing video games.

Dan pauses his game and turns around to face Phil. “You’re what?” he asks.

“The band is going on tour!” Phil exclaims gleefully. “We had a meeting about it today and we’ve already begun booking a few days - we’re having a real UK tour, and we’re fucking _headlining_! We aren’t even going to be an opening act, this is _our_ tour!”

“Oh, my god, Phil!” Dan jumps to his feet and immediately runs over to hug Phil, the older of the two picking him up and spinning him around. “This is so exciting!”

“Come with us,” Phil says, breathlessly, when he places Dan back down on the ground.

Dan’s eyes widen. “What?” he all but whispers in shock.

“Come on tour with us,” Phil repeats. “I already talked to everyone - they love the idea! And you can help us; you can be, like, head of social media, or something, like handling our Twitter and Facebook and Instagram for us. That’s a thing, by the way, real bands have people tweet for them - how fucking posh. But please, say you’ll come!” Phil’s eyes are shimmering with excitement and he’s all but bouncing up and down on his toes.

Dan, on the other hand, is completely and utterly speechless. “You - what?” is all he can choke out, trying to wrap his mind around everything that’s happening. He feels hot all over, excitement coursing through his veins. His heart is pounding and he almost can’t breathe.

Phil squeezes his hands, bringing him back to reality for a moment. “You’ve been a part of this band since the start,” he tells him. “I want you to be a part of this.”

“Yes,” Dan says immediately, without hesitation. He doesn’t even take a moment to think about it; he knows this is what he has to do. “Yes, of course! I - I would love to!” He throws his arms around Phil and hugs him so tight, mumbling, “Thank you,” over and over again in his ear. 

“But first,” Phil pulls away from their hug and Dan immediately frowns.

“No,” he says. “Don’t say it. Please.”

Phil grimaces. “We have to -”

Dan covers his ears with his hands. “ _Don’t_ say it!”

“We have to talk to your parents!” Phil says, raising his voice slightly and Dan starts chanting, “La, la, la, la, la!” as loud as he can almost immediately. 

* * *

Later that day, Dan and Phil sit with their backs to the wall outside of Mr. and Mrs. Howell’s bedroom, each of them alternating in saying “He’s too young to go galavanting around England with his boyfriend!” over and over again.

“I’m going with you whether they give me permission or not,” Dan huffs, his voice soft so his parents don’t hear. “I’m nineteen, I’m old enough to make my own decisions.” 

“We both know you are,” Phil replies. “But you still live with them, Dan.”

Dan shrugs, huffing again. “There’s literally no point in me _not_ going,” he says. “I’m not going to uni, I’m not working - why would they want to keep me at home like a waste of space. Like a houseplant.”

“You aren’t a waste of space,” Phil says immediately. “And you’re better than most houseplants.”

“Most?”

“Well, I mean. Cactuses.”

Dan pauses. “Fair enough.”

Phil smiles, leaning over to press a kiss to Dan’s temple. “Look,” he says. “Whatever happens, we’re going to be okay, yeah? If you can’t come on tour with me -”

“I _am_ ,” Dan insists.

“But if you can’t,” Phil repeats, gently. “We’re going to be okay. Obviously, I want you to come with me more than anything, and Chris and Peej adore you, and you’re always such a huge help with everyone; you keep us grounded and organised.”

“Hopefully that’ll be enough to convince my mum to let me go,” Dan sighs, rubbing his temples in frustration. He _needs_ that to be enough; he has nothing going for him right now - he’s not going to uni, he hasn’t gotten a job. And when he’s with Phil and the band, he actually feels like he belongs. He feels like his existence matters, he feels like he’s doing something with his life. He feels _needed_ and he hasn’t felt needed or like he’s mattered ever since he decided to take a gap year. Not getting accepted to his dream school was the crushing realisation that maybe he needs to find a new dream, but he has no idea what his new dream could be. And until he figures that out, he might as well try to find his purpose going on tour with Phil; at least then he’ll be happy and feel useful instead of wasting away at home. 

Phil goes home after a few hours of sitting in Dan’s hallway, waiting for his parents to give him a clear cut answer, and Dan promises to call him as soon as he talks to them. Dan waits anxiously in his bedroom until it’s almost dinnertime, and his mum and dad enter his room to talk to him. The three of them have another discussion about everything, both sides explaining their points as rationally as they can, and after a long winded chat, Dan dials Phil’s mobile phone number with shaky hands and gives him the good news: he’s joining Fire and Petrol on their first ever headlining tour.

* * *

Times goes by faster than anyone expects it to, and next thing they know, it’s the night before tour begins. They’re heading out early tomorrow morning and everyone’s been instructed to go to bed early and get a good night’s sleep,except Dan and Phil didn’t quite catch that memo. The two of them are lying together on the couch in Phil’s living room, holding each other close and tight and Dan’s face rests in the crook of Phil’s neck. He sighs contently, a small smile on his face. Phil’s arms are wrapped around his waist, his hands splayed out across the small of his back. Dan presses a small kiss to his collarbone and whispers to him, “Can you believe tomorrow is the first day of your headlining tour?” 

Phil inhales sharply and laughs a little, nervously. “I still feel like I’m dreaming,” he admits. “I don’t - I can’t even fathom how all of this has happened, and it’s all happening so fast. It just feels like a dream and I’m going to wake up at any moment.”

“It’s a dream come true,” Dan muses, tilting his head back a little to smile up at Phil. 

Phil grins at him and kisses the bridge of his nose. “I’m so happy you’re coming along with us,” he said. “I couldn’t have done any of this without my biggest fan.” Dan’s cheeks flush pink and Phil kisses his nose again, murmuring fondly, “My Konstantine.”

“What does that mean, anyway?” Dan asks. “What exactly is a _Konstantine_? Because I’ve heard you sing that song at least a thousand times, and I still can’t decipher it at all”

Phil chuckles a little, rolling over with Dan in his arms so he’s lying on his back and his boyfriend is resting comfortably on his stomach. “It was mostly my attempt at being artsy and poetic,” he begins to explain. “But _Konstantine_ just means _constant_ , and you’re my constant. You’ve always been there for me, and you’ve always supported me and loved me. You’re someone that I’ll never get rid of. You’re, like, the perfect fit to my life - like, if everything were a puzzle, you’d be the last piece to make everything complete. And I know you’ll always be a “constant” in my life; you’ll always hold a special place in my heart and you’re someone who I’ll always love.”

Dan opens his mouth to reply, but no words come out. His heart starts to beat a little faster, a little harder, and he finds himself almost moved to tears as he blinks furiously and whispers, “Wow.”

Phil chuckles again and kisses his forehead. “At the risk of sounding redundant,” he says. “You inspire me constantly, Dan Howell.” 

Dan smiles a little and presses his lips to Phil’s, kissing him sweetly and he mumbles, “I love you,” against his lips and Phil echoes it back right away. “I should probably go,” Dan whispers when Phil pulls away, and he nods in agreement. It’s late, they both need to get some sleep. But Dan doesn’t move from the couch for another fifteen minutes, where he lays in Phil’s arms and kisses him until both of their lips are red and swollen. 

They finally untangle themselves from each other, and Phil walks Dan to the door. He stops him before he leaves and says with a smile, “You know what? I think this is just the beginning of some really great things to come - not just for me, but for you too.” And Dan just smiles because he can’t agree more. 

* * *

The first show of tour is unlike anything the band has experienced. Even after all of their days spent rehearsing for this very day, it still doesn’t feel real until the three of them step out onto the stage and hear the crowd of people screaming for them. Phil smiles wider than ever as he stands before a crowd of people (despite the crowd being a bit small since they’re playing small gigs for their tour) cheering for him, excited to hear his music. Nothing is going to compare to this moment, to this feeling. 

The gig that kicks off the tour goes well, much to everyone’s relief. Chris doesn’t curse into his microphone as much as everyone expects him to, and Phil doesn’t trip or drop anything, and no one forgets the words to any of their songs. The best part has to be the end of their show, when the crowd starts chanting their name, demanding an encore. Even though it’s not a part of their setlist, the band rushes back out on stage to play one more song because they just can’t get enough of performing. They play at a lot of bars and live houses, even a mini stadium for one city. And though their venues are small, they’ve managed to sell out each show. Their fans are just so great - they meet a couple of people after each show, taking selfies and signing things for them. Everyone is so genuinely enthusiastic about them and their music and Phil swears that his cheeks are going to pop from all of the smiling he’s been doing lately. 

Each show gives Phil an adrenaline rush like no other and as the tour progresses, he expects to get used to it but he never does. The feeling after each and every night they perform is almost addictive - it leaves his mind buzzing, his body shaking with a new type of energy that follows him when he gets offstage. He never wants to lose this feeling.

They’re living out of suitcases, staying at hotels, and - best of all - travelling all throughout the UK on a real tour bus. And they feel like _real_ rock stars. All of this feels like Phil’s dream come true.

* * *

Dan can’t remember a time where Phil has ever been happier, and it makes him feel like a shitty person because he’s so incredibly jealous. 

Of course he’s happy for Phil; he loves him more than anything and he’s so thrilled that he’s able to live his dreams like this. But he still can’t help but to feel _so_ jealous. He and Phil initially bonded because of their mutual love and passion for music; Phil had his guitar and Dan had piano, Phil had his band and Dan had Juilliard. They both had their big dreams and they both decided that they were to stop at nothing until they achieved those dreams. The difference between the two of them is that Phil actually followed through with all of that, and Dan didn’t. Because Dan fucked up his his Juilliard audition, and he ruined his chances at going to his dream school, and then he just gave up. He let music take the backseat, despite the fact that he has no idea what else to do with his life. He never went to uni and he’s still debating on going at all, because he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t do anything except for music but he can’t bring himself to pursue music again after ruining everything with Juilliard the first time. 

But every time he watches Phil from backstage at one of his shows, he can’t help but to think, when is it his turn? When will _his_ dream get to come true? 

* * *

Watching Phil perform is something Dan will never get tired of, even if he is watching him perform the same set night after night. But he still stands off to the side of every stage that Phil performs on and watches the band play, because he loves seeing the excitement in his eyes as he performs and hearing the happiness in his voice as he speaks to the crowd. He even loves seeing Chris and PJ so happy. Even though there is a part of him that wishes he was just as happy as the three of them were. Another one of Fire and Petrol’s sets is coming to an end when Dan’s phone starts buzzing in his pocket, and he has to excuse himself from the side stage, escaping backstage into Phil’s dressing room to take the call. His eyebrows knit together when he sees the caller ID: it’s his mum. 

“Hello?” he says slowly, trying to piece together why his mum would call him, they just spoke the other night and Dan already had plans to call her this weekend. He has a mini panic - what if someone is hurt or sick? What if his dog ran away? What if the house had caught fire?

 _“Dan, love!”_ his mum says, and she sounds so cheerful and excited that he rules out any of the horrible possibilities and starts thinking of some more positive ones. _“Your dad told me to wait until tomorrow morning to call you so we wouldn’t bother you at the gig, but I just couldn’t wait!”_

“Okay,” Dan says, still speaking slowly, still confused. 

_“A letter came in the post for you today. An acceptance letter,”_ she tells him, and Dan’s heart nearly stops in his chest. He actually has to sit down, and he misses the couch in Phil’s dressing room completely and he finds himself on the floor not a moment later. 

“An - an acceptance letter?” he asks, his voice shaky. 

_“It looks like congratulations are in order, aren’t they?”_ his mum laughs a little and she sounds so full of glee while Dan feels like throwing up. His entire body is shaking and he doesn’t even realise it until his phone starts hitting his ear, and he tenses his whole body to try and stop. But he can’t stop shaking, and his heart is beating faster and faster, and he feels like crying. His mum’s voice plays on a loop in his mind - _“A letter came in the post for you today. An acceptance letter,”_. He must be dreaming, there’s no way this is actually happening. There’s _no way_ he had actually gotten _accepted_. 

_“Dan?”_ his mum’s voice startles him; he hadn’t realized he had fallen silent. _“Dan, dear, are you still there?”_

“Y - yeah,” he stutters. “Sorry.”

 _“Honey, why didn’t you tell us you applied again?”_ she asks and Dan sighs, anticipating being asked this question several more times.

“I just -” Dan sighs again. “I’m sorry, I was just so sure I wasn’t going to get accepted again. I didn’t want to get everyone excited for nothing.”

He can practically see his mum’s smile all the way in Wokingham. _“Well,”_ she says. _“You’ve done it, love. You’re going to Juilliard!”_

Dan has to leave the stadium as soon as his mum ends their call, and he rushes past security and everyone on the band’s team, and he heads outside hoping that the fresh air will help clear his mind and help him think clearly. It doesn’t do much; his mind is still buzzing, thoughts racing through his mind at top speed but they all come back to one thing: how on Earth is he going to tell Phil?

* * *

_Dan’s hands are sweating so badly, he’s legitimately worried that they’re going to be too slippery for him to even play his piano and he’s for sure going to fuck his audition up again._

_Juilliard has extended their audition sites and four representatives from the school are here in London, and Dan is backstage ready to vomit and/or burst into flames as he waits to hear his name called. He can’t remember the last time he was so nervous and then it occurs to him that it was when he was sixteen, in this very place once again, about to audition for his dream school. He closes his eyes at the memory, willing himself not to think about his trainwreck of an audition that not only lead to him not getting accepted but him not wanting to play piano anymore._

_It’s taken him over a year to will himself to start playing again, and even longer to convince himself to audition again, and now here he is, standing backstage waiting for his name to be called._

_He peeks through the thick red curtains for a quick second; the audition space feels bigger than it was a few years ago and Dan feels like he could be sick. The room is empty other than the judges - family members and friends weren’t allowed to sit in on the audition, but Dan knows there’s a few people sitting out in the lobby of the building, waiting for their loved ones. There’s no one there waiting for Dan though, and that’s his fault - he’d kept his audition a secret, not wanting everyone to get their hopes up in case he fucks up again. He doesn’t want to disappoint everyone again._

_But there’s a part of him that at least wishes Phil was here. Today is one of the most important days of his life and he’s going through it alone, but he convinces himself that’s a good thing. If he chokes again, at least he’ll be the only one with the memory._

_His name gets called and Dan’s brought back to reality instantly, the feeling of nausea settling in the pit of his stomach and he’s certain he’s going to throw up all over the piano. His legs shake as he walks out onto the stage, trying to convince himself that he isn’t making a mistake and that this time, things are going to be different._

* * *

Dan’s chest is tight with anxiety and he exhales slowly, alternating between wringing his hands together in his lap and biting his nails as he waits for Phil in their bunk. His back is pressed against the wall of the bus, knees drawn up to his chest. The blanket he and Phil have been sharing for the past month and a half has fallen to the floor but Dan can’t will himself to pick it up. 

He hears the door of the tour bus opening and Dan nearly jumps out of his skin; the gig must be over by now. “Dan?” he hears Phil call his name and Dan feels like he could vomit. He wants to tell Phil he’s back here but he can’t get his mouth to cooperate with his brain. He hears Phil’s footsteps and the bunk curtains fly open. Phil grins, “Found ya.”

Dan offers a weak smile but still doesn’t say anything, and Phil climbs into bed with him. “How come you’re hiding out here?” he asks. “You missed our encore.”

“Sorry,” Dan says, his voice low and soft. He resists the urge to remind Phil that he’s seen them perform the same encore number countless times already. 

“What’s the matter?” Phil asks, picking up on Dan’s mood almost instantly. He reaches out to brush his hair back and Dan sighs softly. “Are you sick? Is everything okay?” 

Dan exhales shakily, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I - I have something to tell you,” he murmurs. And he doesn’t wait for Phil to say anything else because he just blurts out, “I applied to Juilliard and I got accepted.” 

Phil doesn’t say anything for a moment and Dan isn’t sure how to take his silence. He feels himself break out into a nervous sweat and he balls his hands up into fists, pressed against his shin to try and suppress his shaking. “Please say something,” he whispers. “Say anything.”

“What?” Phil finally whispers. “I don’t - I don’t understand,” he shakes his head a little, trying to figure out what exactly is going on and Dan can’t help but to feel a bit shitty for waiting so long to tell him.

“I applied to Juilliard,” he repeats. “ _Months_ ago - before the Battle of the Bands, before tour, before any of this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Phil asks, hurt. “We tell each other everything and this is a huge deal, Dan, why didn’t you -”

“Because I was so, so certain I wasn’t going to get in,” Dan interrupts. “I blew my audition last time - I don’t even know _why_ I auditioned again, I just,” he starts speaking faster now, everything he’s been keeping to himself over the past few months finally coming out. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about it, you know? And - and seeing you and the band everyday, seeing you guys doing something you loved and trying to follow your dreams made me so jealous because I wasn’t doing that.” He takes a breath before he continues. “So I auditioned again. And I didn’t want to jinx it so I didn’t tell anyone - not just you, Phil, I didn’t even tell my parents. I think the only person who knows is the cab driver who drove me to my audition.”

“And you got accepted,” Phil says after a moment of silence. 

Dan tries to fight the smile working its way across his lips, and he nods. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“You,” Phil says slowly. “You got accepted to your dream school and you didn’t even tell me.”

Dan’s smile drops almost as soon as those words leave Phil’s mouth. “I - I just told you why -”

“I’m sorry but,” Phil interrupts. “I don’t understand how you can keep something _this_ big from me for months. I thought we told each other everything.”

“We do!” Dan insists. “I just -”

“So now what’s going to happen?” Phil asks. “You’re just going to up and leave me? And the band? You’re going to leave all of us for New York?”

Dan stares at him for a moment, speechless. He’s never seen Phil act like this before - so harsh and mean. So _selfish_. “Why the hell are you so mad about this?” he asks when he finally regains his voice. “I just got accepted to my _dream_ school, and you don’t even give a shit?”

“Of course I do, Dan!” Phil tries to tell him. “I just don’t understand why -”

“How can you not understand? I literally just explained it to you!” Dan cuts in, and Phil huffs in annoyance, pushing the bunk curtains out of the way and exiting their bunk. Dan follows him immediately after him. “You know what I think?” he asks, then continues before Phil can even turn around to face him. “I think you’re just upset that I’m finally doing something for myself instead of just following you and your band around like some pathetic roadie!”

“That’s not true!” Phil says immediately, turning around. 

“Then why aren’t you supporting me?” Dan demands. Phil doesn’t say anything for a moment and Dan’s heart aches. “God, Phil, for as long as we’ve been together it’s always been about _your_ dreams - never mine!”

“That’s because you never talk to me about your dreams!” Phil shouts at him and Dan visibly flinches, not because he’s yelling but because he’s right. “You can’t accuse me of not supporting your dreams when I barely even _know_ what your dreams are, Dan! All you do is sulk around because you don’t know what to do with your life instead of actually _trying_ to do something about it!”

“You’re such a dickhead!” Dan snaps because he can’t quite think of what to say. Phil’s right, but Dan doesn’t want to admit that and he isn’t sure what hurts more: the fact that Phil has not only been aware of that and is now throwing it back in his face, or the fact that he’s right. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Because you lied!” Phil exclaims. “You’ve been lying to me for months and now you’re expecting me to be supportive of something I barely even knew anything about!”

“You’re my fucking boyfriend, Phil, you’re _supposed_ to be supportive of me!” Dan shouts. “The same way I’ve _always_ been supportive of you!” Once again, Phil doesn’t say anything and Dan fights back the urge to cry. He exhales slowly, trying to relax but he just feels so wound up and he wants to scream and cry and throw things. He wants Phil to apologise and realise he’s being an arse. He wants everything to go the way he imagined it to. 

But everything’s gone to shit, and Dan feels like it’s all his fault. “I want to go home,” he says, breaking the silence. 

“What?” Phil whispers, his eyes going wide.

“I just -” Dan wipes his eyes as they start to feel suspiciously wet. “I just need some space, okay?” 

“Dan, just wait a second,” Phil says, and Dan can tell he’s beginning to panic. “We can talk about this -”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” Dan says tiredly, and Phil continues trying to convince him to stay but Dan shuts him up when he softly says, “And I just can’t be around you right now.”

Phil falls silent and Dan hates himself for hurting him so much, but Phil hurt him first. Phil just doesn’t _get_ it. Maybe he pictured their future together with Dan blindly following him around as he achieves all of his dreams, but that’s not the kind of future Dan sees for himself. Not anymore, at least. “So that’s it?” he asks. “You’re just leaving me?”

“Don’t make it sound so dramatic, Phil,” Dan sighs, rubbing his temples, but even so he can’t bring himself to say _yes_. And,” he adds a moment later. “Not that you care, but I have to get ready for school.” Phil still doesn’t say anything, and Dan sleeps on the couch out in the lounge of the tour bus that night. The two of them don’t say another word to each other.

* * *

The next day, at their next stop, Dan is the first one off of the tour bus and he hails a cab to the train station. Everyone is confused and Dan offers little to no explanation as to why he’s leaving so abruptly, but he still says goodbye to everyone, thanking them for allowing him to join them on tour for as long as he did. He hugs everyone except for Phil and promises to call. When he sees Phil, he offers a tense smile - or something that sort of resembles a smile - and Phil doesn’t even look him in the eye. Dan sighs quietly and gets inside his cab without another word to Phil. Phil is inside of the hotel before it even drives away.

* * *

_“What do you wanna be when you grow up?” Dan asks Phil one day. It’s an hour before one of Phil’s guitar classes, and Dan just finished up one of his piano lessons. The new couple spends their time together talking about music and getting to know each other a little bit more with each and every conversation._

_Phil smirks a little. “Aren’t we already grown up?” he asks, teasingly._

_Dan rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a twat, you know what I meant,” he says._

_Phil chuckles a little, then falls silent as he thinks about the question at hand. “I want to be a musician,” he says softly, almost shyly. “A successful musician. I want to tour with my band and spend my life performing songs I wrote.” He smiles fondly as he talks and finishes his little sentiment with, “That’s the dream.”_

_“I can totally see you doing all of that,” Dan says and Phil’s cheeks flush a little. “You’re so talented, it’d be impossible for you not to make it in the industry somehow.” Dan reaches for his hand and gives it a small squeeze. “You’re going to have millions of fans, but I’ll always be your number one.”_

_Phil ducks his head down, embarrassed, and mumbles, “Shut up,” and Dan laughs softly, giving his hand another small squeeze. “What about you?” he asks. “What’s your dream?”_

_Dan shrugs a little. “I don’t know,” he muses. “I would love to be a musician too,” he trails off, hesitating for a moment, and then says, “You know, I’d really love to go to Juilliard one day.”_

_“Really?” Phil asks, smiling a little._

_“Yeah,” Dan sighs. “I auditioned when I was sixteen but I totally choked.” He shrugs again. “It’s a dream that will never be.”_

_“Hey, don’t say that,” Phil tells him immediately. “The only thing stopping you from going to Juilliard is yourself.”_

_“That wasn’t cheesy at all,” Dan says teasingly, rolling his eyes a little._

_“I’m serious,” Phil insists. “I believe in you, I think you could totally go to Juilliard.” He kisses Dan’s knuckles and asks, “Why should my dreams come true and not yours?”_

_Dan bites his lip, not knowing at all what to say. He wants to tell Phil that it’s hard to believe that someone could actually believe in him when he doesn’t even believe in himself. He wants to tell Phil how jealous he is of him because he’s so sure of himself and so confident, and Dan is nothing like that at all. But he doesn’t want to kill the mood. So instead he settles for, “I love you,” because he does love Phil, he loves him so much. And he can’t believe that he’s so lucky to have someone so supportive and amazing in his life._

* * *

Phil can’t believe Dan.

He can’t believe someone could be so uncaring and selfish like that; he can’t believe Dan would keep something like this from him for months, and then just drop the bomb on him like that. And he can’t believe Dan left him - and in the middle of tour, nonetheless! It’s unfair, in all honesty, just plain un- _fucking_ -fair. Phil needs Dan now more than ever, and Dan just leaves him. 

Phil’s angry. So, so angry. And he spends the next several days sulking around in hotel rooms, turning his anger into song lyrics and make his fellow band members raise their eyebrows with concern. They have a brief band meeting to convince Phil that _I hope you fall into the ocean and the current leaves you helpless, swimming around_ is definitely not going to make their debut album. However, that doesn’t stop Phil from writing angry song after angry song because he’s just so fucking _angry_ with Dan now. 

He’s selfish, that’s what he is. Of course Phil doesn’t mind if he goes to Juilliard, but does he have go to _now_? Now, in the midst of Phil’s debut tour. Now, while Phil is still writing and recording for his debut album. Now, when Phil needs Dan’s support more than ever. Dan is his rock, and his biggest inspiration, and his muse, but he doesn’t care about any of that. All he cares about is himself. 

The band and crew start to worry about him, and one by one they all insists that he calls Dan to apologize and work things out. But Phil is adamant about doing the opposite. “I did nothing wrong,” he tells them. “He’s the one who lied to me, he’s the one who left. If anyone should be calling and apologizing, it’s him!” Eventually, people stop asking him to call Dan.

Phil writes so many songs during this time; not all of them are good, and they’re all pretty angry, but he writes until his fingers ache. After a while, however, songwriting just isn’t enough for him, and Phil needs to find a way to rid himself of this anger.

Which is how he ends up at a club after one of their shows. 

Phil doesn’t even like clubs, but he figures it would serve as a pretty good distraction. Besides, he doesn’t want to spend the night moping in his hotel room - he has no idea what Dan is up to now, but the last thing Phil wants to do is waste five hours thinking about him. 

The club is loud and the floor is sticky and the music isn’t even that good. As soon as he arrives, Phil wants to leave. He feels awkward and he feels like everyone can tell that he’s been broken up with. He lingers around, looking at the people around him who mostly look like colorful blurs. He doesn’t usually go out without Dan and he feels a bit like a lost puppy, like he _needs_ someone to guide him around and make him feel good about being here. Because he doesn’t feel good, he feels insecure and hyperaware of everything and he really hates clubs and he really hates going out without Dan. But he forces himself to stay. He’s spent almost two weeks being angry, tonight he just wants to enjoy himself. 

He buys himself an overpriced drink and a pretty boy with blond hair flirts with him. _‘You can do this,’_ he tells himself when he tries to flirt back. _‘You’re single now, you can flirt with a pretty boy, you can do whatever you want._ ’ But he can’t. He can’t flirt with someone who isn’t Dan, because his heart still belongs to Dan. Slowly the anger and resentment he’s been feeling towards Dan has been fading away, and he didn’t even realise it until now. 

He misses Dan, and he loves Dan - he still loves Dan and he knows he’ll always love Dan. No matter how upset with him he is, he’s always going to love Dan. Dan is the only person that he wants, and now he’s gone and it’s all his fault. 

Because, wow, he fucked up.

As the blond boy tries to get his number, all Phil can think about how positively awful he was to Dan; how he totally blew everything out of proportion. Juilliard is Dan’s dream school and Phil should have been more understanding and accepting, but he wasn’t. He was an asshole, and he doesn’t even blame Dan for leaving him now.

“Excuse me,” he chokes out to the blond, realising that he has no idea what he’s been saying to him, and he rushes out of the club. He hails a cab the second he feels the rush of wind on his face and heads back to his hotel as fast as possible, almost forgetting to pay as he flies out and heads inside. He doesn’t make it very far, as soon as he’s inside his room, he drops to the floor and starts to cry. 

Everything is so clear to him now. He shouldn’t be angry, he has _no_ right to be angry with Dan. If anyone should be angry, it should be Dan because he ruined everything. He ruined his relationship with Dan and he has no idea how to fix it.

* * *

The sadness settles in almost as soon as the anger leaves, and Phil spends almost every waking moment lying in his bunk on the tour bus or in a hotel bed. He manages to pull himself together for shows and when they meet fans, but other than that all he does is write sad songs about Dan. It’s pitiful, even he knows that. But he can’t get this sadness out of his bones, feeling as heavy as lead and weighing him down. 

“You should call him and apologise,” PJ tells him for the tenth time since Dan left. 

“I can’t,” Phil tells him. “I was so horrible to him ,he probably never wants to speak to me again.”

“Well you’ll never know unless you try,” Chris insists and he isn’t even trying to sound funny, in hopes of Phil taking him seriously. 

“Dan hasn’t even tried to get in contact with me in weeks,” Phil whines. “He’s better off without me, even he knows that.” 

“Just fucking call him,” Chris groans, but Phil continues to insist that he can’t do it, that it’s just a lost cause now. Eventually Chris and PJ give up on getting Phil to call Dan and he doesn’t blame them. First Dan gives up on him, then his best friends. He truly is pitiful. 

* * *

The rest of tour goes by in a flash. The days are filled with Phil self loathing and wallowing, nights are filled with shows. He hates himself for not enjoying this as much as he should be - sure, after a while he allows PJ and Chris to talk him into going out to a party or something, but he really does spend most of his time sulking and missing Dan. And he isn’t sure if he blames Dan for breaking his heart, or himself for allowing Dan to break his heart like this. 

Phil’s knees bounce as he sits on one of the speakers backstage, lip caught between his teeth and he wrings his hands together. It’s the last night of tour and they’ve back where they’ve started - in their hometown. And it’s bittersweet, but above all Phil knows he should be happy. They’ve come full circle now, and he just performed on his first tour - a tour that sold out almost every night. He met fans, actual real fans of _his_ music - music he wrote with his best friends. Everything that’s happened to him is something that he thought would only happen in his dreams, but it all happened in real life and he should be _happy_.

But he’s not. Because Dan isn’t here. His biggest fan and supporter, his best friend, and the love of his life isn’t here on the last night of his show, and it fucking sucks. His heart aches and he can only fake a smile for so long because everyone is able to see right through it. He misses Dan and it’s all he can think about, even with five minutes before he has to go out on stage -

“Hey,” a soft voice interrupts his thoughts and Phil’s heart nearly stops because he’d recognise that voice anywhere. He looks up and sees Dan standing there before him.

He gapes at him, glancing around to see if anyone else is surprised to see Dan here but they aren’t, suspiciously enough. However, Phil decides not to dwell on it and he gets up to his feet right away, closing the gap between him and Dan right away and putting his hands on Dan’s waist because he just has to be sure that he isn’t dreaming right now. “Dan,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Dan repeats softly. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something but then stops, and Phil realises that he doesn’t really care about that because he’s _here_. He’s here, and Phil is so damn happy now. It feels as though a huge weight has been lifted off of his back and chest, and he can actually breathe again. He feels as though there is sunlight radiating inside of his body, and now he can’t wait to run out on stage and perform his heart out. 

And then Phil’s smile fades. Because it dawns on him that he is way too dependant on Dan, in terms of his happiness. When Dan was gone, Phil felt like dirt and he didn’t even have the energy to pick up his guitar half of the time. And now that he’s back, Phil feels rejuvenated and he knows that it should not be this way. Dan makes him happy, that much is true, but he’s starting to realise that Dan is a direct component of his happiness. Phil has always felt like a rockstar, because Dan has always made him feel like one. And that’s not healthy at all. Not for either of them.

“Can we talk later?” he asks him as Chris and PJ are pulling him out on stage because it’s time to perform, and Dan replies, “Of course.”

* * *

The show goes by in a blur and before he knows it, it’s time to perform _Konstantine_. Phil, Chris, and PJ all joke about how sad they are that this is the last time they’ll be performing this song on this tour, and then Phil goes into his speech about how this is their favorite song to perform because it’s the song that kick started everything for them. Chris does his usual “it’s a good thing you wrote it then mate” which gets a laugh from everyone. 

“Well, I wouldn’t have written it if it weren’t for a special someone,” Phil says, earning an _aww_ from the crowd. He glances off to the side of the stage and sees Dan standing there, and a lump forms in his throat because Phil had been looking over there for so long and Dan hadn’t been there. But now he’s here - now he’s _back_. “Relationships are hard,” he tells the audience. “And they require a lot of give and take, and I think sometimes we forget that. Sometimes -” he hesitates for a moment, his voice catching in his throat. “Sometimes, we just take from the people we love, and we forget that we need to give in return. And sometimes we give so much that we forget to demand that the person we’re with needs to give as well. It’s hard to find that balance, but once you do,” he smiles a little and glances over at Dan once again. “It makes all of the bad stuff worth it. And once you find a person who can put up with your shit, you know they’re in it for the long run. They become constant. They become your _Konstantine_.”

The crowd cheers and the band starts to play, and Phil blinks back tears and sings his heart out to Dan.

* * *

Dan and Phil ditch the “tour’s over celebration after party” almost as soon as they arrive, and the two of them wind up back at Phil’s hotel, seated side by side on his bed, neither one of them looking at the other. As time ticks on and the silence grows stronger, the two of them find themselves being suffocated by the elephant in the room and Phil finally decides to speak up.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out at the exact same time Dan decides to speak up as well. He smiles a little. “What are you apologising for? I was the jerk.”

“I was acting pretty jerk-ish too, though,” Dan admits. “I should’ve told you about Juilliard and I should’ve been nicer about telling you that I wanted to go -”

“But I should’ve been way more understanding,” Phil interrupts. “I just blew up at you and that was so unfair of me.” 

“I don’t really blame you,” Dan sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I sort of just dropped a bomb on you.”

Phil hesitates for a moment, then reaches for Dan’s hand and gives it a small squeeze. “Talk to me, baby,” he tells him. “Tell me the whole story. Please?” 

Dan sighs again, squeezing Phil’s hand again, even tighter than Phil had squeezed his, and he starts, “Ever since I bombed my first audition, all I’ve been able to think about is Juilliard. And what if I hadn’t screwed up, and what if I had got accepted. For _years_ Phil, this is all I could think about. But I,” he stops for a moment and Phil squeezes his hand, encouragingly. “I was just too scared to try again. I - I’ve just been _so_ unhappy lately, and I knew it was because of this, and I knew I just had to try one more time. But -” he stops again, closing his eyes, and then whispers, “But it’s more than that, Phil.”

Dan turns his head to look at him. “Everywhere I’ve gone and all of the friends I’ve made have all been because of you,” he says, and his words feel like a stab to Phil’s chest because he knows it’s true. “When I was getting ready for my Juilliard audition, I thought, _this is it_. This is my chance to be Dan Howell, not Dan and Phil.”

Phil’s eyes burn with tears and he finds himself speechless for a moment. He struggles to gather his thoughts and when he finally does, he swallows hard and softly says, “I really want you to be Dan Howell, baby.” 

A small smile makes its way to Dan’s face and he whispers, “You do?”

Phil takes a moment to wipe his eyes and he says, “I know my initial reaction may have lead you to believe otherwise, but I am really, really happy for you Dan. I’m so happy you finally auditioned again and I’m happy you’re going to your dream school. But,” he hesitates, biting his lip, and then whispers, “I’m not so happy about you wanting to leave me.”

“Phil, I don’t want to leave _you_ ,” Dan says immediately. “I’m never going to leave _you_. I’m just leaving London.”

Phil sighs. “I guess I’m guilty of wanting to be Dan and Phil, and not just Phil,” he admits. “I just got so used to you always being _there_ , always at my shows and always at my rehearsals. You were always cheering for me the loudest and making me feel like I was on top of the world, and without you I don’t know if I can feel like that.” 

“I know what you mean,” Dan says. “I don’t know if I can live my life without following your path. But that doesn’t mean we can’t try, right?” he puts his other hand on top of Phil’s and he says, “I know it’s going to be different and probably really hard at first, but it could be worth it. I don’t want to hold you back from living your dream at all, but I also want a chance to live out mine.”

“And you deserve that chance, Dan,” Phil tells him, and he brings Dan’s hands up to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. “I’m sorry for being so selfish before,” he says. “And I’m sorry for the way I reacted. But I believe in us and I believe in this relationship, and who knows? Maybe the time apart will be really healthy for us, it’ll give us a chance to discover who we really are when we aren’t attached at each other’s hip.” Dan smiles shakily, his eyes still wet with tears, and Phil tells him, “I love you so much, Dan. And I really do want you to go to Juilliard - you _deserve_ to go there.” 

“I love you so much, Phil,” Dan turns his body towards Phil and throws his arms around him, hugging him so tightly. 

The two of them hold each other for a moment, and Phil presses his face against Dan’s neck. “I want all of your dreams to come true,” he whispers to him.

“One of them already did,” Dan whispers back, giving Phil a tight squeeze. And Phil just smiles because he feels the exact same way.

* * * 

It’s the night before Dan has to leave for New York, and he’s been a mess all day. Shaky hands packed his bags, and then unpacked everything, and then packed again for hours. Phil had to remind him about seventeen times that this was a good idea and that everything was going to work out just fine, although it didn’t do much to starve off Dan lying down in his hallway, crying into the carpet while he had a bit of a mini crisis. “You’re just scared,” Phil tells him, lying down on the floor next to him. “And you have every reason to be, but you are going to be amazing. You’ve _always_ been amazing - an amazing person, an amazing musician. Now it’s time for you to show the world what you’re capable of.” He reaches for Dan’s hand and gives it a comforting squeeze and offers a small smile. 

Dan whispers, “You think so?” his voice small and so full of insecurity. 

“I _know_ so,” Phil says firmly, and he brings Dan’s hand up to his lips, kissing his fingers. “Now, let’s finish packing, yeah?” 

“Y - yeah,” Dan replies shakily, and it takes him a minute to get it together but when he does he pushes himself up to his feet and allows Phil to guide him back into his room. Phil feels a small sense of deja vu as he helps Dan prepare for Juilliard; it reminds him of the night before tour began and how he was a nervous wreck and Dan was there to remind him that everything was going to be okay. It was the night before Phil’s greatest dream came true and now it’s the night before Dan’s greatest dream is going to come true. The only difference is this time, Dan is going to do this on his own.

As much as Phil would love to drop everything and follow Dan around New York and live in a small flat with him and spend their days as starving artists, spending mornings in Starbucks writing songs like hipsters and their nights intertwined in each other. But he can’t. He has the band, and he has a life here, and he has his career here. And Dan needs a chance to spread his wings and fly, without Phil weighing him down. It’s Dan’s turn to shine, and Phil just needs to step aside and let him. 

When night falls, Dan and Phil find themselves lying together on his couch, and Phil feels as though he could cry. Because he’s sad that Dan is leaving. Because he’s going to miss his boyfriend. Because he’s scared of living a life without Dan. Because he’s anxious about being in a long distance relationship. Because he’s so proud of Dan for finally following his dreams. Because he’s so happy Dan is finally going to his dream school. Because he loves Dan so much. 

“Hey,” Phil whispers to him, holding him as close as he can get him. “Have I told you that I’m so proud of you?”

His back is to him, but Phil can tell he’s smiling. “You might’ve mentioned it once or twice,” he whispers. He rolls over in Phil’s arms and looks up at him with a smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Phil replies, kissing Dan’s forehead. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with all of this?” Dan asks him, biting his lip nervously. “New York is really far away.”

Phil hums a little, and then softly sings to him, “ _A thousand miles seems pretty far, but they’ve got planes and trains and cars. I'd walk to you if I had no other way.”_

Dan’s eyes are wide and wet, and he sounds a bit choked up when he asks, “Is that a new song?”

“It’s a work in progress,” Phil tells him, his cheeks flushed. “But the point is, I don’t care how far away New York is; my heart is always with you, and yours is always with me.”

“God, you’re so fucking pretentious,” Dan says with an eye roll but he’s smiling so wide.”Maybe you should come with me to New York,” he adds teasingly. “You’d fit right in.”

Phil rolls his eyes this time, and he gives Dan’s forehead another kiss. “You’ll be just fine without me,” he tells him. “I’m so damn proud of you, Dan. And I know I haven’t said this as much as I should, but I always knew you were going to achieve great things like this.”

“Really?” Dan asks, his voice hushed. 

“Really,” Phil replies, and Dan hugs him as tightly as he can, his face pressed to Phil’s chest. And the two of them lay together on Dan’s couch for hours on end, until they fall asleep in each other’s arms and visit each other in their dreams.

  
_And then you bring me home_  
_And we go to sleep but this time not alone, no no,_  
_And you'll kiss me in your living room_  
_I know, I know you miss me in your living room_  
_Cause these nights I think maybe that I miss you in my living room_  
_We don't have much room_  
_I said, does anybody need that room?_  
_Because we all need a little more room_  
_To live_  


**Author's Note:**

> head on over to my tumblr (@mermaidmaldonado) to say hello!! and to chat about this if you'd like!
> 
> ps: i have a tag for this fic on my blog ^_^ check it out!!! http://mermaidmaldonado.tumblr.com/tagged/we-dont-have-much-room-to-live


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